


Worth A Thousand Words

by fabrega



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Blackwatch Era, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-01
Updated: 2017-12-01
Packaged: 2019-02-09 07:25:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12882975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fabrega/pseuds/fabrega
Summary: The briefing goes great, right up until it doesn't.(a piece for CLASSIFIED: A Blackwatch Zine)





	Worth A Thousand Words

**Author's Note:**

> This fic originally appeared in the Blackwatch Zine! This was my first zine, and it was such a joy. I'm so glad I got to participate! ♥

The briefing goes great, right up until it doesn't.

It's McCree's op, his idea, and he's been taking point on all the planning, so it only makes sense for him to run the briefing too. And it's not like McCree hasn't ever run a briefing before--he's pretty much Gabe's right-hand man at this point. As Gabe finds himself more and more tied up with paperwork and bureaucracy these days (thanks a lot, Morrison), McCree has been a steady, dependable asset and, honestly, a pretty good friend.

The mission is simple: a small team, in and out before anyone knows they're there. Gabe stands to the side and watches while they all run through it, his eyes on McCree. The briefing is thorough and includes everything Gabe thought it needed to, but then Jayachandran and Shimada have extra questions about the perimeter security. The maps they need aren't in the briefing slides, but McCree has them saved on his tablet, so he hooks it up to the display and taps through the relevant ones, explaining each as he goes.

He taps one more time, and what's up on-screen isn't a map of the compound, but a picture of Gabe, smiling. A murmur ripples through the room, and McCree swears and tries to get back to the maps, accidentally tapping through two more photos of Gabe smiling before he manages to get the tablet unplugged from the display. Gabe scowls at the agents closest to him, hoping that McCree hasn't managed to undo the air of sternness and unapproachability that he's taken years to carefully cultivate.

Where did McCree get so many pictures like that? Why does he have them? Gabe has questions, and McCree had better have some answers.

It wraps up quickly after that. The agents filter out past Gabe, and McCree is very pointedly avoiding his gaze. When he finally does look up, he gives Gabe a sheepish look. Before Gabe can say anything, he says, "I know--your office, now."

It's been years since Gabe's had to bark that at McCree, years since McCree had been the recalcitrant troublemaker and Gabe had been the disappointed CO. He and McCree work so well together now, are so close, that it's easy to forget those days.

He settles behind his desk when they get to his office, and McCree stands in front of him, looking uneasy. Just like old times.

"This is all Agent Shiga's fault, really," McCree blurts. When Gabe raises an eyebrow, he amends, "Well, no, today ain't nobody's fault but mine. But the reason I even have that picture is because Shiga didn't believe that you smile? I told him, 'Oh, yeah, Reyes smiles all the time,' but he wouldn't believe me without proof."

"Okay, that's one photo. What about the rest?"

McCree looks down at the floor.

"How many?"

McCree boots up his tablet again, copies a worryingly large folder to Gabe's computer, and flees the office.

Gabe opens the folder.

Twenty minutes later, Gabe sits back in his chair. He's gone through all the photos--so many photos--once, and then again when he finally puts his finger on what's been bugging him about them. There are a few where he's obviously laughing at some joke; a couple where he's let his guard down, at a debrief or out in the field; and one from the UN function a few months back where he's in his dress blues and making nice with the Secretary-General. But overwhelmingly, in the photos where Gabe is smiling, he's looking at McCree.

He didn't want to believe it. He checked twice. But there it is, on his screen: proof that he hasn't managed to keep his inconvenient crush on Jesse McCree as under wraps as he'd thought.

McCree knows. He has to know. He's one of Blackwatch's best agents. There's no way he could look through these photos and not know.

Next question, then--what does he want? Some of his agents, Gabe would assume the worst--blackmail or torpedoing his career--but McCree? They're colleagues. They're friends. Gabe trusts him. Some of these photos are years old; if McCree wanted to ruin him, surely he would've before now.

Where does that leave them?

He pulls out his own tablet, lets himself think about Jesse McCree: the crinkle at the corner of his eyes when he smiles, how he squares his shoulders before jumping into something that terrifies him, the breathless way he looked at Gabe after he saved Gabe's life last month in Hong Kong. He feels himself smiling, and clicks the shutter on the tablet camera. Before he can think better of it, he sends the photo directly to McCree, captioned with: _one more for you_.

A minute later, his tablet pings. It's a picture message from McCree: there's McCree's face, a middle finger at each end of his mouth, pushing it up into something approximating a smile. Gabe snorts, but a sense of unease grows in his gut.

A minute after that, McCree's in his doorway. Gabe stands from his desk. "Shouldn't have sent you that," McCree says, stepping into the office and letting the door slide shut behind him. "Figured you were making fun of me, then I thought--what if you weren't?"

Gabe echoes McCree's question, attempting to keeping his voice steady. "What if I wasn't?"

"Then you sent me that photo for a reason, and I'm real interested in finding out why." McCree steps forward, around Gabe's desk and close into his space.

"You saw the same photos I did," Gabe finds himself saying, half-holding his breath. "You tell me."

"I did. I looked back through those photos, and you know what I saw?"

Gabe exhales. He says, "My crush on you."

At the same time, McCree says, "My crush on--wait." He stares at Gabe for a long moment before grabbing Gabe's face with both hands and kissing him. The press of McCree's lips against his is soft and unexpected, and Gabe doesn't mean to make the noise he does.

"So, your crush on me?" McCree says when he pulls away.

"Shut up." Gabe tries to look gruff, but is unable to keep himself from smiling.

**Author's Note:**

> If you like this and are interested in reading more like it, [smarshtastic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/smarshtastic/) and I are in the middle of [SALTapalooza](https://archiveofourown.org/series/829584), a McReyes trope-fest that you might enjoy!


End file.
